


The Potter

by badatmakingusernames



Series: Balbon-ki [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Non-binary narrator, Plot Twists, Princes & Princesses, Prophecy, Sarcasm, Sass, are there any more tags I need?, un-beta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badatmakingusernames/pseuds/badatmakingusernames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tumblr prompt I turned into a story.<br/>"A hero goes to a prophet to get a prophecy he fails."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Potter

Today's clay was stubborn. It did not want to work, to tell the story it needed to do. Hmm, how could the Potter work without the clay? How else could it do what needed to be done? This country was losing its seers, and the Potter was just about the very last one. Balbon-ki barely existed without it, being a small country. Wars, plagues, disasters, anything could attack at anytime.

The Potter grabbed a pail of... nothing. Where had the water gon- a foot in a puddle told the story completely. It had tipped over when the first vestiges of the future arrived.  
They didn't know why, but for some reason they could never predict everything accurately until there was clay between their fingers being molded. They'd gotten good, at pots and bowls at least. Most other things required too much focus.

“Potter?” A voice asked, as someone knocked on the door.

“You a customer or a carrier?” The Potter asked, grabbing a cloth and rushing to clean up that mess.

“Carrier.” He replied. Definitely a he, the Potter thought looking up, a young he, not a child, but not really an adult, but a he nonetheless.

“Then this must be your first time. Grab this, and fill it at the well just outside, quick!” A pail was tossed, and the carrier hurried out, doing as he was told. Ohh, someone who listened! Finally. The Potter was far too used to the others that the King sent. The rude ones. 'Well you didn't see me doing it, so I won't'. 'Tell me my future'. 'No, don't hand me some useless pot, why do you need it anyways?'.

The carrier arrived again a few minutes later, carrying a bucket of water that sloshed its contents everywhere.

“Give it here, gently, gently. I don't need more water here, no plants need growing in here.” The Potter said, gingerly removing the bucket from the boy's grasp. “Alright, wait here, I'll need to get to work.” The carrier sat on the edge of the couch, and the Potter settled down into the workbench. Now where to begin...

“May I ask a question?” The carrier's voice interrupted the Potter's thought. Oh no, not again... This carrier had seemed so nice.

“If you hurry.”

“What is your name?” The Potter sighed almost inaudibly in relief. So the worry was for nothing.

“Nariheneh. Yours?”

“Tolman.”

“Well, it is very nice to meet you Tolman the carrier, but I have work to do.” With that, Nariheneh, the Potter, set to work. The clay still hadn't been kneaded. Where had Nariheneh's mind been this morning?!

Kneading the clay was easy enough, get rid of the bubbles. Press them and squash them. Pots with bubbles never ended well. The last one nearly set the cottage on fire, that's why the last carrier quit too, now that the Potter thought of it.

Next came the fun. Getting the clay wet, the Potter began rolling the clay into a ball. Once it was rolled, Nariheneh began to pinch at the top, and an image flickered to life.  
_A great beast loomed overhead. A winged one, saberith._ _One half large cat with great teeth, one half a large golden eagle._

The Potter's lips pursed. Where was this? The pot's center deepened, as Nariheneh pressed on.

_It was among a forest of deep green, but still near the hills with wooden houses._

So close? It sounded like this could even be on the path to the Potter's house from the King's castle.

_There was only one on the road to face the monster, a young... boy._

The Potter looked back to Tolman. The boy looked up expectantly, and the Potter turned back to face the work that needed to be done.

_It was Tolman, standing there. He wasn't slack-jawed, he knew what would happen. He'd taken one of the gardening tools from the Potter's house too, neither of them had weapons._

The pot's shape was more evident now, and the boy had risen from his seat to watch from over Nariheneh's shoulder. He'd never seen someone work like this before. His eyes were filled with wonder and a child-like innocence.

_The fight was clumsy, on both ends. Tolman held his own rather well, too well for a commoner boy, and the beast, it must have been youthful like him. It didn't last long, they both tired so quickly. The beast toyed with the human before it like a cat with his master's toes. Slashing and trying to claw at him. Tolman did his best to evade, then from a safe distance would try to do the same with his own 'weapon'._

Finally, Tolman got the upper-hand, and the beast was dead, but the victory was short lived. A flicker of black, but it wasn't over quite yet. He looked down and red was beginning to stain his clothes. As he collapsed, everything darkened, and reality came into focus.

“It is beautiful.” The boy said, bringing the Potter further back into the moment. Looking at the pot, Nariheneh couldn't help but agree. It was so lovely, one of the finest to be made, and it hadn't even touched the flames. “What did you see?”

“Not something you will like.” The Potter replied. “Sit down.” Tolman listened and sat back on the couch, and then he heard everything, and when he'd heard it, his face was completely blank.

“Oh?” His brows furrowed. “So there's nothing to be done?” Nariheneh nodded solemnly in reply.

“No, nothing to be done that hadn't already.” The Potter got up and hurried out to the garden. Resting by a fence, was a normal garden hoe. Tolman picked it up and swung it around.

“Whose son are you?” The question slipped out too quickly for the Potter to stop and ponder it. Tolman was surprised, but he still answered easily enough.

“The king's.” His reply was sheepish. “We needed a replacement carrier, I wanted to go out and see your work in person.”

“Why didn't you bring any bodyguards? Why are you all alone? You are the King's only child!” The Potter's voice demonstrated the desperation. Without the King, there wasn't much hope for Balbon-ki.

“I argued that if something was to happen, you would know and warn us, and I left without him this morning. He was ill, injured, and exhausted. He wouldn't last even on such a short trip.”

“I can see the future, yes, but I rarely see the future for only one person. Whenever I see something it is because it affects the entire country! What happens today, either saves us or destroys us, and I warrant that it'll be the latter.” The prince pursed his lips.

“Well, may I make a last request?” He asked, his voice much more quiet and somber. The Potter nodded.

“I'll see what I can do... What is it?”

“Tell my father? I think he will be proud that his diplomat son has finally grown a warrior's heart.” Nariheneh nodded.

“I'll tell him as soon as I can. He'll know about your bravery.”

“Thank you.” Tolman looked up to the sky. “How much longer then?” The Potter looked up with him.

“I have no idea. Soon? You don't have to leave immediately. Stay as long as you like.” Tolman shook his head.

“If it's soon, I better leave soon.” Tolman replied.

“Well, at least let me get the pot to the kiln.” The Potter replied, hurrying back into the little cottage. Then, the Potter, new pot in hand, walked over to the kiln.

“Seems empty.” The Potter said, before looking up to the prince. “Can you be a lad and fetch some of that fire inside?” He sighed and laughed.

“I think I know what you are trying to do. While I appreciate it, if you saw me die fighting that saberith, then... Then I need to go.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you, really. It's very kind, but... I will need to get home, will I not?”

“I suppose you will.”

“It was nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” The Potter replied with a smile. “I'd wish you luck, but you don't need it.”

“Thank you.” He gave Nariheneh a respectful, quick half-bow and started down the path. The Potter watched him for a while, before turning back. There was work to be done, and only one pair of hands to do it.

~ ~ ~

The Potter stood at the doorway of the cottage, watching the skies, and watching the pot that sat in the sunlight. It would sit there until sunset, then Nariheneh would take it inside.

Everything was so still, so peaceful. Perhaps it wouldn't happen today? But, then again, it had to happen. How can you escape fate? No one else had, the Potter thought, taking a look inside. One half of the practically one-room cottage was filled with jars and pots that glistened and gleamed with the light from the windows. These were the truly finished ones.

Each one was a completed prophecy, awaiting to be sold the next time the Potter went to the market. That short, round one was because the Dradia Army had been defeated at the southern border. The one beside it, because the floods had come just a few years prior. The tallest one in way back was because they had won the southern war. That was the Potter's, never for sale. It marked the first time Nariheneh had sought the future on purpose.

On the other side, the more empty one, was filled with pots, jars, and bowls of similar quality. They were the prophecies that hadn't been fulfilled quite yet. They were dwindling now, and the Potter didn't know whether to be proud, or to worry.

People always thought the Potter had some kind of secret. That it was the clay used that made the seer. The Potter had even seen some of the local villagers, but mostly their children, climbing all around the tall hill trying to find the special dirt. Merchants even tried selling it too, and if Nariheneh had a pebble-roon every time one tried to sell the 'special' clay, why the cottage would be yet another castle in the horizon! If only that would be true, maybe then the work would be easier. There would be more out there like the Potter, and the job wouldn't be so lonely anymore-

SNAP

The Potter jumped at the loud noise, and looked out into the 'yard'. What could have caused it? It sounded like a bro-

The pot, the brand new pot, was cracked. Right. Down. The. Middle. It was large and unseemly, and unnatural. The Potter hurried over. What could have done this? The only way it could have cracked like this is if it had already dried! And, as anyone could tell by running his hands on it, it was practically sopping wet, and could still be easily molded.

“POTTER!” A voice ripped out through the woods,

Nariheneh looked out to the woods and saw...

“Tolman?!” The boy waved a greeting and half-skipped half-ran over to the top of the hill. “How're yo-”

“I have no idea. It flew down and blocked the road, like you said. Then we fought, like you said. Then I hit it, and it died, like you said. But I did not. Why?”

“I don't know! This has never happened before!” The Potter said, retreating into the cottage. Tolman followed after quickly.  
The pots on the other-side of the home, the unfinished ones, they were cracked. The exact way that the newest one was, the only difference was that each of these was distinctly smaller.

“Something's wrong... Terribly wrong...” Nariheneh took a step back, with hands over mouth, and eyes wide. “We need to tell the King. Immediately.”

“Maybe we should wait.” Tolman replied. “Maybe we can fix this?”

“The only way I can think of, is by the end of your life, and I doubt your father would appreciate my services much longer if I did that.”

“Well, maybe we need to wait for another saberith? Then-”

“Saberiths come from the northern Shahad border. They rarely come down this far south, it's too cold- they live in the desert for Telect's scrolls! I'm surprised one so young could even survive down here, especially as winter approaches.”

“Maybe it was an attack?” Tolman asked. The Potter gave him an incredulous look.

“Shahad? Attack? They're the closest thing that Balban-ki has to allies!” Tolman gave Nariheneh an odd look. “What? I'm a seer. I see the future of the whole nation. I knew more about this before you could ever pay attention. Now, as I was saying, we need to tell your father. You hurry now, I'll be after you soon.” The Potter pushed him out of the cottage and back into the yard. The prince tried to argue over his shoulder, but Nariheneh shushed him every time until the boy's feet were planted on the rough, cobbled path down the hill. “There, see? We're here already. You hurry along, I'll need to do somethings first, and then I shall follow after!”

With a final, gentle push forward, Tolman sighed, and started off, and the Potter watched him till he faded out of view. Then, Nariheneh turned back and hurried back into the clearing. The Potter grabbed a stick from the woodpile, hurried into the house, and plunged it into the fire. With a makeshift torch in hand, the Potter hurried out to the kiln, and with little time at all, it was heating up.

That pot was still wet to the touch as Nariheneh took it to the kiln. Wiping away the residue on the apron, the Potter watched anxiously. Why did this take so long?! Why couldn't it be any other task. Mucking out stables would take less time! The seer's mind was whirring with plans, ideas, pleas, excuses for the King.

Well I don't exactly have control over what I see, I just see it, your Majesty.

At least your son isn't currently dead, your Eminence.

No, I cannot simply 'change my mind', but thank you, All-Wise King.

Oh the dungeon? Uh, no thank you, Oh Violent One.

It would all depend on the King's mood. At least there would be time for that man to calm down first. The Potter always thought that he had quite the temper, but... Well, the man wasn't really a tyrant, the seer- and everyone else for that matter- could easily understand that. He only had what was most considered the worst profession in the known world, so getting grouchy once in a while could never be unexpected. Other than those rare moments however, the King was quite reasonable.  
With nothing else to do, other than wait, the Potter hurried out to the shed and grabbed a wheelbarrow. Might as well get some proof of the creature's existence before carrion birds and villagers picked it clean for souvenirs and dinners alike...

The wheelbarrow made a rhythmic thumping noise every time it bobbed down another step of the cobbled steps. Were it not for Nariheneh's sturdy grip on the rickety thing, it would have veered off into a tree and shattered into bits. Repairing wheelbarrow bits was an extraordinarily tedious waste of time, and the old seer didn't have much time to waste, especially today.

The branches were starting to hit the Potter. The King would have to send another one of his gardeners again. It'd been years since the last one had stopped by; Nariheneh snickered at the thought of the snobbish man being 'harassed' by a squirrel two branches away. It hadn't been funny at the time, what with his shrill squeals, but now it never failed to give the sound of laughter to the clearing.

Finally there was a break in the clearing, and there was an all too familiar scene painted before the Potter's eyes. There was a sandy colored beast laying there in the grass, and it was so peaceful, except for the blood. There always had to be blood, didn't it? That was worst part, see the blood. At least when the vision came around the first time, it stopped before there was too much.

Hmm... that Saberith was larger than the Potter thought... definitely couldn't fit in the wheelbarrow. What could?

The splintered hoe could, but anything could do that. A claw? But the seer didn't carry knives. A piece of the tail wouldn't work either. A feather from one of the wings? No, it's the same color as a golden bird of prey. It wouldn't do much good either.  
The teeth! Those would work perfectly. No other creature could have such large teeth. It's head was huge! The Potter wouldn't be able to fully reach around the thing's neck, let alone its' head. The teeth, however, were about the length of a man's arm. It was terrifying to think that the boy had to face this, and yet... It seemed so much smaller before, but it had to be the same one.

Well, there wasn't much time to waste... Nariheneh set down the wheelbarrow gingerly at the base of the hill, best not let it get into mischief. Then the Potter took slow steps forward, as if that beast would lurch forward and gobble up anything in its midst.

Deft fingers barely brushed against the tooth, before pulling back. It was still slobbery, and the thing's breath was murderous alone. The fingers returned again, no time to be squeamish. Wiping some of the saliva away with a sleeve, the Potter worked up courage and their hands went for the tooth.

~ ~ ~

That was a vile, disgusting task, and next time some prince came around and killed giant beasts, that brat would be the one to bring the proof to his- or her actually, the Potter remembering seeing a warrior princess once- father.  
The seer was now returning back up the hill, and the rhythmic thumping was much slower, that tooth added on a lot of weight. The Potter also had the foresight to grab the blade of the hoe that killed the saberith that had been embedded at the base of the skull.

Needless to say, the wheelbarrow's contents were particularly foul today. It would need a good washing, and preferably by one of those servants of the king... Though it would never happen, it was nice to dream about being important once in a while.

As the Potter reached the clearing again, curses were already coming to mind. Why had Nariheneh been so stupid! It was one of the first rules that the Master had instilled upon her apprentice as a child. Never ever leave fire alone. In fact, it was a basic rule that any mother taught her children, and here was the Potter, disappointing not only their long dead mother, but every mother as well.

The seer set down the wheelbarrow and hurried to the kiln as soon as they were sure it wouldn't wander off. The pot inside hadn't exploded quite yet. That was good, the cottage was very lovely and did not need any remodeling this second. The Potter went inside, grabbed the bucket of water from earlier, and dumped it out over the lower half of the kiln, avoiding the pot all together.

After it had cooled enough to be able to be touched, the Potter grabbed it, muttering 'hot hot' under their breath along with an occasional curse. Once it was safely in the cart- and far from the blood and slobber- the seer turned that wheelbarrow down the stairs so fast, it was practically flying. If the rickety old thing decided to crash into a tree, there would be no stopping it.

The Potter reached the clearing, and gave the carcass a wide berth and hurried up yet another set of stairs on yet another hill. Then, once the summit was reached, Nariheneh went down with a little more caution down the steeper slope.

The rough stone path merged onto a wider, better paved path that continued up hill, and there were no stairs anymore. This was the main road through the Kingdom, which led from the capital to the northern and southern borders. It certainly made trade easier, and toll booths were becoming more and more popular as the trader and their wealthy caravans kept riding along through here.

The Potter was now in the middle of a crowd of people coming up from the south, and suddenly remembered why they lived out in the middle of the forest. Babbling swirled up from everywhere and assaulted the old seer's ears at a deafening volume, and none of it made sense, even if it wasn't from one of the Drudian traders. Children ran about, not caring if they were in front of carts, behind them, slowing them down, or pushing them forward to a more 'desirable' pace for their impatient minds. And the people had no sense of personal boundaries either. Everyone crashed into everyone else, with no regard. There were no apologies, no rep reprimanding, no moment of peace!

They reached the top of a plateau, and suddenly, there was a city-scape painted before their eyes, underneath the silhouette of a large castle. The path lead through the heart of the city, and at the Potter's first opportunity, they turned off toward the castle as the crowd stopped to stare.

Two guards stood on both sides of the double door, both holding those metal things... Gums? That's what the King called them, right? Those metal crossbows without the bows, that flung scraps from a blacksmith's pile. They would never work, the Potter had never seen those contraptions ever actually work. However, the King kept that little secret all to himself, and let the ceremonial guard carry them anyway to seem more elite.  
As one of those guards opened a door, there was a flicker of something. Work already? Usually there was at least a day of rest between the visions. The Potter walked on through the doors, hand on their forehead, trying to press on where the stinging was worse. Something is wrong.

Another vision flickered, a violent one, full of pain. There were oranges, reds, yellows, and metal. What? Was it the gums? But this had never happened before. The gums would never work!

“Nariheneh?” Tolman's voice echoed through the hall. The Potter looked up as the dark haze dispersed. There was the crown prince, standing to the right of his father. The King and his son shared very few features. What made the King constantly look sullen and angry had overlooked his son and made the pair look like a perfect balance. The only features they shared were their eyes, and chins, not that anyone could, behind the hairy thing that sat on the King's face just below his bottom lip.

“Is everything alright?” The King called in a deep baritone.

“No, nothing's right!” The Potter snapped. “Stop treating me like that. It's like you think I'm old or something.” The King gave Nariheneh an odd look.

“You are old. You worked for our father before us, and might live to see our son's reign.” Ah, yes, the royal 'we', the most pretentious way of putting oneself above every other self.

“Might I have a private audience with your royal Majesties and his son?” The Potter replied. “I am in no mood for bantering or bickering.”

“Very well, we shall humor you.” The King stood up. “To the study. Tolman, you shall accompany us as well.” The Prince nodded and followed practically two steps behind his father, and the Potter hobbled behind them as fast as they could.

Just as they all reached the stairs, a servant finally asked the old seer if they wanted assistance with that cart. It took every ounce of will for them to not snap back at the unlucky boy 'took you long enough!' The look on the young boy's face was priceless as the Potter watched from over their shoulder.

“Might want to be careful, it's heaver than it looks.” Nariheneh said with a chuckle. The servant shook his head.

“I'll be fine, I live to serve after all.” Came the breathless reply. The Potter snickered again, and they could faintly hear the crown prince laughing too. The King was still too busy being serious to bother to deign to laugh alongside them all. That was perhaps his only flaw, pride.

Come to think of it, that was a flaw of practically every citizen of Balbon-ki lately. It was the product of such success. There hadn't been a major war in almost a century, illnesses were minimal, and everyone was prepared well before any disaster appeared. But... But what would the people do once Nariheneh died? The seer was old, and just about the last one left. There was a reason the prophecies were starting to dwindle after all.

They reached the study, and the Potter's melancholy thoughts dissipated for the moment. The King turned back, sat in an overly stuffed armchair and stared expectantly at

Nariheneh for an explanation.

“This morning, I received a vision.” The Potter started. They went through the day's events, mostly focusing on the important bits, and ended it at, “-and then I sent him back here, and now I don't know.”

“You are telling us, that our son is going to die?” The Potter bit their tongue and tried with every ounce of will they had not to roll their eyes.

“That is why I am here. I am telling you. I. Have. No. Idea. This hasn't happened to me before, not to mention I cannot ask anyone else about it. The only seer I know is a boy in some southern village who's obsessed with playing in the mud!” The King pursed his lips.

“There is no one left?”

“I have been searching for the last eight years. There aren't many of us left.” After the Potter said it there was a deafening silence, until- CRACK!

“What? What is it?” The King asked, he'd jumped in his seat, and then sunken lower into it, as if he'd been embarrassed, not that a king could be. Nariheneh turned around and the servant's face was ashen.

“I didn't touch it I swear!” He squeaked. The Potter walked over to the wheelbarrow, and found out why. The pot, the brand-new pot, was broken in half. The seer's deft fingers barely touched one of the fragmented parts-

_The boy, Tolman, stood in the middle of the road, and looked down to a red blotch on his tunic, before falling to the ground._

The Potter flinched. That was... different. It had changed, it must have! Nariheneh was almost scared to touch the other half of the broken thing, but... duty calls.

_A man stood before a great crowd of people. They were all so different, and yet alike, in one simple way. Old, young, man, woman, they all reached out their hands to him, and_

_Tolman smiled back at them._

As the Potter's sight returned to them, they blinked rapidly. What just happened?

“Nariheneh?” Tolman asked timidly. “Am I still going to die?” The Potter turned to face the prince, and took his hands.

“I don't know. But I have an idea.” The seer turned to stare expectantly at the frightened servant. The young one stepped forward.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Take his hands.” The Potter said, guiding the servant's own and directing them.

“Why is this-” The King's question was cut off as they saw Tolman's widen in shock. The room was utterly silent and still, frozen until the prince's naturally gentle eyes returned to their normal state.

“Do not worry about the wheelbarrow, it does look quite old.” The prince assured the confused servant with a kind smile. The Potter clapped their hands together and smiled. The King looked to the seer, his eyes demanding the thousand answers his heart asked.

“Turns out, I am not the last reliable seer yet. Your son is a late bloomer.” With that, Nariheneh clapped a hand on the prince's cheek.

“But he is still going to die?” The King was still lost in the dark, poor lamb.

“I don't think so. I'd forgotten something I'd learned a long time ago. Seers cannot predict another seer's future. I never bothered to remember because seers usually don't impact Balbon-ki that much.” The Potter looked out the window, and the sky had turned dark! How the day goes by... “After a lifetime of service to the crown, would it be rude of me to ask to stay here for the night?”

~ ~ ~

The servant boy, Melaan apparently, was sent out to go get the Potter's rooms ready, and on his way, he tripped. The wheelbarrow was shattered on the ground. Nariheneh sighed. All those years in the forest, and it breaks down in a castle. He kept apologizing every time he passed the Potter, and it got rather annoying quickly.

Tolman followed the seer around like a lost duckling, and when asked, wouldn't answer what was bothering him, until finally-

“If you've something to say, say it.” The Potter snapped, and Tolman flinched back.

“I'm just wondering... You said you see the events that shape the country, but... But what about me? How does that wheelbarrow do anything to Balbon-ki?” Nariheneh snickered at that.

“It doesn't necessarily work like that. You see the futures of individuals, I see the future of an individual state.” Tolman frowned.

“I would have hoped that if I could see the future I could do something more useful.”

“But that is useful. You see details! You see what makes someone who they are, before it even happens. For example, Melaan. You saw how upset he'd be after what happened. In that moment, you knew his character better than any of us, him included.” Tolman didn't look quite satisfied with the answer, but he said nothing nonetheless.

Dinner with royalty was practically a dream. The food was amazing, the company... less so. Those two were so quiet! But it wasn't the good quiet, oh no, of course not! No, it was the so-thick-you-couldn't-stand-to-eat- kind of tense that everyone loathed.

Afterwards, the Potter hurried off to bed. They were used to working from can-see to can't-see, and then going to bed when can't-see arrived. Just because the seer was now in the royal palace, didn't mean that they suddenly didn't need sleep. As Nariheneh settled into bed, it was like their entire existence was made to live here. Perhaps they would have to trade this for the lumpy straw-filled bed back home... If the King could part with any one of these wonderful things. What was it made of, cloud? Magically warmed snow? Whatever it was, it was slowly lulling the Potter to a peaceful sleep.

~ ~ ~

The sun rose over the capital of Balbon-ki, and King Tolman looked up from his desk. Morning? Already? He had missed an entire night's sleep without doing any work. He certainly felt like he'd abstained from sleep for a lifetime. He couldn't keep doing this to himself, he wasn't as young anymore. His gaze lifted to a tall jar resting on a shelf on the other side of the study. Once upon a time, it had been the tallest one of a whole collection...

“Is this what it felt like?” Tolman asked, speaking more to its dead maker than to it. “You're right, growing old is far overrated.” The King made a mental note to warn his children to avoid it if possible.

It had been what felt like a lifetime since he and Nariheneh had met on that terrifying day. The summer after that however, was by far his favorite. Everyday, Tolman- along with a retinue of guards, since the King had learned his lesson- would go to the cottage in the middle of the woods and simply listen to everything the Potter could teach. Most of the teaching had been about seeing the future, but there was often life advice was thrown in for good measure. Tolman also had a litany of instruction about how to make clay pots, jars, and bowls now, perhaps he should put it to use.


End file.
